


So Long (It's Been Good to Know You)

by Moonlark



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Death, Immortality, M/M, Past Lives, but I'm pretty sure it at least makes some sense, i don't even know what this is
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-20
Updated: 2014-10-03
Packaged: 2018-02-12 17:42:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2118954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moonlark/pseuds/Moonlark
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first time Leo sees Cristiano, he's tracking a wolf that had nearly killed one of his clanmate's whelps. A lone traveler crests a ridge to the west, and Leo's gaze is drawn to them, despite the sun in their eyes. </p><p>The stranger is wearing a freshly skinned wolf pelt, and looks like Brother Sun come to life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prehistory

The first time Lio sees Cristiano, he's tracking a wolf that had nearly killed one of his cousin's whelps. A lone traveler crests a ridge to the west, and Lio's gaze is drawn to them, despite the sun setting in his eyes. The stranger is wearing a freshly skinned wolf pelt, and looks like Brother Sun come to life.

"Hello," he calls up to the stranger, shading his eyes and watching as the other man starts down toward him.

"Hey," the stranger responds, leaping nimbly from rock to rock and eventually landing in front of Lio. "Nice to see someone who's not trying to kill me on sight."

"Thank you—high praise." Lio hopes this guy knows what sarcasm is. Judging from the smirk, yes. "By the way, that wolf pelt—did the creature have a scar on its flank?"

The stranger frowns. "Yeah, I think it did?"

"My cousin would thank you, then. The beast tried to make off with her child."

The stranger smiles. It's a nice smile, Lio notes. "Well, won't be getting anyone else's kids now. And might I get that thank you in the form of a meal, a night by a fire, and some company?"

It's Leo's turn to smile and nod. "That sounds appropriate. I'm Lionel—Lio—by the way." He takes off a glove and offers a hand.

"Cristiano," the other man says. He doesn't have gloves, only thick fur ruffs on the ends of his parka sleeves. He completes the handshake, and his palm is warm, calloused in just the right way that Lio has to suppress a slight shiver and pull away as quickly as he can while still being polite. Without another word, Lio turns around and begins easing back toward the camp, crooking his fingers in a follow-me gesture.

They make it to the lodge before the sky's fully dark, and the whole of the camp crowds around to greet the stranger. It turns out Cristiano's from a camp near the western ocean, to the south as well. Lio's never seen the ocean, but he imagines it looks something like a bigger version of the lake by Saiseta Camp to the north.

Eventually, the fire's banked for the night and everyone goes off to their sleeping furs—Lio, as a single man, gets the plot right by the door—the first line of defense. It just so happens that Cristiano's sleeping only a few feet away, emitting little breathy snores, in and out, in and out. They sound kind of like wind through trees. 

Lio can't sleep because of them.

*******

For the next few days, Lio does his best to avoid the traveler. He's not very effective, but at least it makes him feel like he's trying something.

*******

On the fourth day, Cristiano announces his intent to leave on the following morning. Part of Lio is disappointed, but the large majority of him is relieved. He tries to suppress his inner turmoil until he's away from camp, and uses the fish runs in a not-so-nearby stream as an excuse.

It's not far enough. He stands up to take a break around sun-high and literally runs into Cristiano. He kind of bounces off.

"Hrrk?"

"Hey! Lio! I was hoping to run into you!"

 _Just act tired,_ Lio thinks. _Maybe that'll work._ "What?" he says wearily.

For a moment, Cristiano looks uncertain, but then he shrugs, and—

_Oh shit._

It's better than Lio had imagined. When it finally stops, he's left gasping for breath, panting and still in shock over what Cristiano can do with his mouth.

"What—" he says again, but this time it's a light-headed expression of surprise (and plenty of other things).

Cristiano smiles. _Finally_ , says his voice, except—holy shit it's in Lio's head, and Lio—

Lio is so done with this shit.

*******

Cari, the medicana, is busy slicing burdock root to be dried when they find her. Cristiano waits off to the side, face furrowed worriedly as Lio emphatically tries to drag a straight answer from Cari. She keeps evading his queries, saying that she's heard of it, but never seen it before, that she's got no experience with this, that this isn't something she's learned, that...

Eventually, Lio just cuts her off. "You said you'd heard about it. Can you tell us what you've heard at least?"

"What I've heard? That if what you say is true, then you'll be bound to that guy for life. That means if he chooses to leave, you'll have to go with him or convince him to stay. And, Lio, how much do you really know about him? This is... not good."

Lio's stomach swoops downward, panic tangling with the confusion already seeded deep within him. Then Cristiano's voice invades his head again, saying _What, am I really that bad?_ with laughter behind it, and Lio can't help but feel a little lighter. 

"What do you mean, I'll have to go with him if he leaves?" he pressures anyway, and Cari grimaces. 

"Insanity. From what I've heard, the distance would break your mind."

*******

In the end, Cristiano waits another month before leaving. There's a tearful goodbye from Adranez Camp, not for him, but for the one of their own who has chosen to leave as well.

Soon, the two of them are standing on top of a ridge above the valley where they'd first met. Lio can feel the happiness, the partially sated wanderlust echoing down the bond from Cristiano. 

 _So, now what?_ Cristiano asks, reaching over and laying a hand on Lio's shoulder. Lio feels warm in his chest, in a way that has nothing to do with the bond, and everything to do with the knowledge that even if the bond hadn't happened, he might've followed Cristiano anyway.

He takes a few minutes to consider, and then tentatively replies, _I think... I think I should like to see the ocean._

*******

It takes about five weeks to reach the Great River that Cristiano says is about the halfway point on the journey. Going straight west would get them to the ocean quicker, but Cristiano's home camp is farther south, and they need to cross the Great River before the floodplain. 

The River is wider and faster than Lio anticipated. It's really nothing like he'd imagined, having only the streams in the hills by his old camp for reference. It's late summer, though, so the water level is down to the point where a crossing here isn't a ludicrous idea. 

They make it, even if Lio loses his footing once and almost gets swept downriver. They make camp and dry off in the sun, and then spend part of the night getting quite sweaty indeed. 

It's another five weeks before they come to a creek that Cristiano says he recognizes. He leaps across it and sprints down through the forest, Lio following him at the same mad pace. "Almost there!" Cristiano cries out, and Lio almost laughs at the energy rushing off him in waves—almost, but not, because he still remembers how it felt when he got back from his first long hunting trip when he was still a boy.

Then suddenly they're out of the trees, and both of them stop dead, because... well, at one point there had been a camp here, but as of now it's just a sodden, smoldering wreck. Cristiano lets out a strangled sob, and then stumbles forward. At first Lio can't tell where he's headed, and then he sees the charred body and—

_Oh no._

And then he's moving, too, kneeling next to Cristiano in the dirt and ashes, crying over the body of a person he never knew. 

Too late, the noises behind them register in Lio's shell-shocked brain. He scrambles to his feet and whirls around, only to find himself staring at the pointed bone tip of a light throwing spear that is all too close to his chest. It's a weapon made for long distance kills, but it's still quite effective at short range.

"Oh, look, Pablo, it seems we missed a couple of the rats," says the person holding the spear.

"Eh, Gregor, more like the rats decided to make the job easier for us."

Cristiano twists, rising from his knees to his feet, and Lio can feel the anger rolling off him in smothering waves. He snarls viciously and then lunges, yanking out his belt knife and knocking the first fucker's spear aside. Lio springs backward, darting sideways to distract the other one, and then everything becomes a blur until Lio's feet are swept out from under him and a spear slammed through his shoulder into the ground. 

He screams, half from the pain and half from the fact that out of the corner of his eye, he can see Cristiano lying limp on the ground, blood bubbling from a dent in his chest. 

One of the attackers sits down next to Lio, smiling creepily and turning Cristiano's knife over in his hands. "Should we have some fun, or..." His voice trails off, and he reaches over—

A line of fire traces itself across Lio's throat, and then everything fades jaggedly to black.

*******

Death is calm, quiet, peaceful. Death is a smooth ocean that he floats on, too tired to move, too still to sink. Death is arms of darkness gathering him in, gentle fingers keeping away the fears and the failures, soft hands holding him close and never letting him go.

Death is... not this. 

Lio's eyes drift open and then snap to attention. He scrambles upright, weaving slightly, but then steadying himself as he takes in the scene around him. The burned camp is no longer smoldering, and the leaves on the trees are beginning to turn brown. Dried blood coats the upper front of his tunic, and there's a hole in the leather where the spear had gone in, but all that remains of the wound is a shiny, circle scar.

Then he turns around, and glimpses something that causes his heart to skitter all over the place like a startled deer and his legs to wobble all over again.

There's a bloodstain on the leaves where Cristiano had lain, but the body is gone.


	2. In Pharaoh's Land

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AS A 'VERTICALLY CHALLENGED' PERSON, I FEEL I SHOULD BE ALLOWED TO MAKE SHORT JOKES.
> 
> also, puns. you have been warned.

The sun is high, beating down upon Lio's head and shoulders as he paddles the canoe. His arms have stopped burning from immediate exertion, but they still have a bone-deep ache that reminds him he's been paddling for twelve hours a day, and sleeping uncomfortably for the rest of the time. Saltwater splashes up over the sides of the boat, drying uncomfortably on Lio's skin, and a sunburn is already forming. 

He's grateful when Cristiano taps his shoulder and takes the paddle from him. He crawls to the bow and curls up under a sailcloth. It's much more pleasant than hot furs would be, and he's grateful for the advances that have been made in the 15,000 years that he's lived, on and off, since his first death.

It's gotten easier after that first time, the knowledge that death to him is just like taking a month-long nap. Also, even if he and Cris get separated, he'll be able to find Cris through the mental link, and yeah, they still don't have an explanation for that thing.

The sun is near the horizon by the time they pull the paddle on board and break out the little bread they have left. They're gonna have to find land soon. 

In the middle of the night, Cris wakes him and points silently at the horizon. Lio blinks away sleep and looks, searching the darkness with eyes that, he's discovered, are nearly twice as good as a normal human's. At first he doesn't see anything, but then a dark smudge appears on the horizon, too low to be a cloud bank. Lio radiates relief down the bond, and he feels Cris's grin in the back of his brain. 

The next morning, however, it turns out the land they saw at night is all sand—a beach that leads into a desert. It's still a relief to be able to stand without worrying about tipping the boat over, but now food is a real worry. Lio knows from experience that he won't be permanently dead if he starves, but it'll still suck.

They spend the day skirting the coast, heading east, away from the setting sun. At sunhigh the next day, Lio spots a green smudge against the brown and blue horizon. It feels so good to finally see some color again.

They're moving fast, and they reach the river delta by nightfall, pulling the boat ashore, setting up the tent, and proceeding to "keep each other warm". 15,000 years hasn't dulled this part of life. 

*******

When Lio wakes up, there's a poorly-made spear pointed at his throat. He's overcome with a strange feeling of deja vu. 

Beside him, Cristiano scrambles to his feet, showing the usual disregard for the fact that there is a pointed object near his vital organs (and one near Lio's). This immediately gets both spears aimed at him, allowing Lio to rise unhindered and gently remove both weapons from the hands of the boys holding them. 

"Now, now," Cris mocks with a flash of a bright-toothed smile. "Is that any way to treat your guests?"

The boys stare at them in bewilderment, and the shorter one says something in a language Lio's never heard before. The taller one hisses something back, and then they turn and bolt out of the tent, sprinting faster than Lio'd previously thought was humanly possible.

 _Well,_ he says down the link, _that was weird?_

 _Yeah,_ Cris answers. _Why come in here in the first place if they were going to bolt at the first sign of trouble?_

Lio shakes his head, puzzled, and ducks out of the tent. There's a faint sound on the breeze, one that he can't identify. After a bit, he simply shakes his head and gets started repacking everything so they can put it back in the canoe. Why portage when the sea's right there?

(Also, the height difference makes portaging kind of awkward. The canoe either slants up or down, depending on who's in front.)

They're almost done packing when Lio notices that the background sound is no longer in the background anymore. He stands up and shades his eyes, peering eastward, squinting against the morning sun. Cris stands too, one hand grasping the hatchet thrust through his belt and the other settling on Lio's shoulder. 

Then the source of the noise becomes clear. 

For a moment, Lio's frozen still, shock locking his limbs in place. He lets out a quiet "oh", voice small. 

 _So that's why,_ Cris whispers. 

The next second, they throw the rest of their stuff into the boat and hurry to shove it out to sea. Lio grabs the paddle and springs into the front, propelling them forward as Cris pushes from behind with all his strength. The water gets deep pretty quickly, and Cris climbs aboard in a swift practiced movement, barely rocking the canoes.

There's a brief moment where Lio honestly believes they're going to get away... and then a hand latches on to the side of the boat. It's easy to smash a paddle down on the fingers, to break free for that instant, but there are other swimmers behind the first, and the first one slowed them down just enough for the others to catch up.

There are too many hands to shake off now, dragging him into the water even as he struggles to fight them off with his belt-knife. An arm locks around his head and then he's choking, trying not to breathe in as he's forced underwater, but oh shit it's too long, too much and he's gasping but there's no air, nothing but dark, cold, salty water and who cares that he's died ten thousand times, he's ever drowned before—it's usually a battle wound that does him in—and he doesn't know if he'll come back from drowning...

Then there's sand scraping on his skin and he doesn't care that he's being dragged bodily up the beach, he's busy regurgitating about three gallons of saltwater. Great huge gulping breaths drag in much-needed oxygen, and slowly, color vision returns. 

Cristiano is beside him, anxiety written all over his body as he tries to help Lio up. He's also soaked, but he doesn't seemed to have swallowed much water, and that's a little bit of relief amidst this suddenly tension filled morning. 

Really, it's all a lot to take in, but they both recognize the futility of fighting, not now, when they're caught and unarmed in the middle of an actual fucking army.

_Not much point in running._

*******

They're made to walk, blindfolded and with their hands tied behind their back, the hot sand burning the soles of their feet. Lio's not sure how long it's been, but he thinks it must be after sunhigh when they're finally allowed to stop and have a few sips of water. It's not enough to anywhere near quench the burning in Lio's throat, but at least it's something.

He still feels like he's being dry-roasted over an open flame—sunburn and near heat exhaustion is a form of torture alone. 

Eventually, the sounds around them change from the steady foot-beats of the army and the hisses of a desert wind to the faraway chatters and rumbles that Lio knows as the sound of civilization, no matter the language. The words may be in an unfamiliar tongue, but it's easy to guess the rumors and speculation flying around at the sight of an army marching two strangers, bound and blindfolded, through the middle of a settlement. 

Things kind of blur from there, and then they're standing alone in some kind of courtyard as their captors leave. It's not long before the silence is whole enough that Lio feels safe to scoot sideways slightly, toward the warm, solid pillar that is Cris.

Maybe he falls asleep on Cris's shoulder. Whatever. It's the right height for a headrest.

He's woken by a voice in his ear, that same language from before, and Cris's voice obstinately repeating "I don't understand, I don't speak this language." Other voices join in, strange chatters that make no sense, providing nothing but a background roar, like the buzz of a thousand bees. 

Suddenly, the blindfold is ripped off Lio's face, and he flinches as the light reaches his eyes. It's nearly sunset, but the sun is still high enough above the horizon to shine directly at his face. He's not deaf though, and when the people fall silent, he knows that something must be about to happen.

"למה אתה בא לכאן?" voice by his ear asks him, and he nearly jumps out of his skin. Cris whirls around to stare at the man that's appeared behind him, and Lio nearly falls over, but manages to regain his balance in time. Now he's confused, though, because that was a different language than the others were speaking. He still doesn't understand it.

The stranger must spot their confusion in their faces, because he switches to another language and tries again. "من أنت?"

Lio shakes his head slowly, aware they're probably looking quite stupid to the gathered crowd. The stranger sighs and tries once more. "Με καταλαβαίνεις τώρα? Ποιος είσαι εσύ? Γιατί είσαι εδώ?"

"We don't understand you," Cris says, more forceful now, annoyance seeping across the bond. 

The man frowns for a moment, dark eyes scrunching up in concentration, and then smiles broadly, teeth standing out against his amber-shaded skin. "Is this you speak? I must sorry, not know as I'm know others." He pauses, clearing his throat and glancing around, before continuing with a sigh. "North speaking, do not see much here."

He utters a few words in his own tongue, and two younger men come forward and untie the ropes that are binding their wrists. Lio's shoulders are aching, and he rolls them a few times to keep them from stiffening up. His hands tingle unpleasantly as the blood begins flowing uninhibited into them again.

"I'm apologize tying you. Had make sure were not spies from east; having trouble with." The man's hand is fiddling with an amulet around his neck; it looks kind of like a beetle, but Lio can't get a good look at it. 

"So, uh, can we go now?" he asks quietly. "Have our things back? Or at least get something to drink?"

"Oh! Yes, yes," and here the stranger turns around and beckons to two of the servants standing silently at the courtyard edge, "show you to room. Food, water, rest! Then talk in morning." 

Then he's gone as fast as he appeared, and there seems to be no choice but to follow the servants.

*******

The next morning, though, no one comes to talk to them. Sure, they're provided with meals—very good ones, at that—and the hammocks are comfortable, but eventually sitting around all day gets a bit boring. Lio's a little disappointed, but hey, it's better than navigating the tense politics of an unfamiliar court or whatever they'd be doing otherwise. 

If Lio's guessing, it would be just after sunhigh when a young boy, maybe nine or ten, opens the door, slips in, and proceeds to immediately begin teaching them a game he calls 'senet'. The language barrier's a bit of a problem, but it's not debilitating. The game itself is interesting, although they keep losing badly. 

The fourth game's almost over (Cris, after losing them three in a row, is taking a bit of a break, and Lio's just about to get his last piece off the board—it's in the House of Three Truths, and he just needs that one three, dammit) when the door opens again. This time, it's a well-muscled guard with a sword hanging from his belt. The guard barks something at the boy, who grabs the game board and pawns and flees the room with surprising speed. 

The guard beckons silently for them to follow. Lio hesitates a moment, not entirely sure he wants to go following some random guard off into the depths of a strange palace-city, but Cris has already moved, and there goes the choice.

It turns out okay, though. The guard doesn't lead them down to a cell or an execution room or anything, merely to a dock by the edge of a wide river. The man Lio's begun to think of as the translator is there, directing two slaves as they lower a canoe into the water, the canoe Cris had made fifteen years ago, fully loaded with their belongings. 

The translator turns around and starts toward them—and wow, he does _not_ look happy.

"Ocean down river. Do not come back. High Priestess of Ra says if you stay, Isfet grow. Leave, now." When neither of them move, he crosses his arms and growls, "LEAVE."

"What did we do?" Cris asks, alarm seeping from his entire being out across the dock and into the river. 

The translator laughs darkly. "Nothing, yet. But will. Get out now, might live. Stay, pharaoh would have you dead." With those dark words, he turns on his heel and strides away. The guard and the two servants follow noiselessly.

It takes a few seconds for Lio to fully process what the translator had said, but when he does, he immediately gets in the boat, picking up a paddle as Cris joins him. They shove out from the docks in silence, taking care not to splash too loud. 

Night is falling, and under the shroud of dusk they leave the city behind. The river soon widens into a delta, and Lio can almost taste it as the water turns to salt. 

 _Y'know,_ Cris says in his head,  _we're pretty much in the exact same position we were two days ago._

 _Not entirely,_ he answers.  _We've got more food and water. They were nice enough to replenish our supplies._

Cris snorts.  _Call what they did nice?_

_Well, when you think of it that way... I suppose the pharaoh wanting to kill us for something we might possibly cause in the future wasn't very nice._

He can feel the broad smirk that spreads across Cris's face, and thinks, _oh no, don't say it, don't you dare say it..._ Of course Cris ignores him.

_To me, it didn't really seem fair-oh!_

Lio reaches back and punches Cristiano's shoulder.  _SHU_ _T UP._

He can still hear the other man's mental laughter across the bond as he tries to go to sleep. His eyes drift closed with chuckles in the back of his brain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope my google translate hebrew, arabic, greek, etc. doesn't offend anyone. If it does, please tell me, and also how to fix it. (The only languages I know are English, Japanese, some Spanish, and pig latin (but that doesn't count)).
> 
> FYI, Lio and Cris were born around 17,000 BCE in this. This chapter is in about 2,000 BCE.


End file.
